


The Ex, Con Artist

by Swashbuckler



Category: DCU, DCU (Comics), The Flash (Comics)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Break Up, Canon Compliant, Canon Relationships, Con Artists, Embarrassment, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Female Friendship, Gen, Guilt, Lies, Partner Betrayal, Post Issue 69 of The Flash, Post-Canon, Talking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-03
Updated: 2019-09-03
Packaged: 2020-10-06 14:50:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20508815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Swashbuckler/pseuds/Swashbuckler
Summary: Some tricks hurt more than others.





	The Ex, Con Artist

**Author's Note:**

> This idea kinda bit me out of nowhere last week and demanded to be written, and now here it is! Detective Burns comforting Kristen Kramer post "The Greatest Trick of All" arc.
> 
> (If you aren't particularly fond of James' Rebirth characterisation and comic arc, you might wanna give this one a skip as this is in-keeping with that characterisation and plot.)

“--keys, phone,” Allison muttered, patting her jacket pockets before hauling her bag over her shoulder. “See you next week, Morrow!” she called at her partner as she crossed the bullpen with a wave. Morrow nodded, raising the file in his hand.

“See ya, Burns.” 

A couple of the night shift greeted her as she passed them in the corridor. “You better have left some work for us, Burns.” 

“As if I’d give you an excuse to slack off,” she called over her shoulder as she kept walking. They were good guys, but right now sticking around for a chat wasn’t high on her list of priorities: right now she just wanted to go home, stick the TV on, and crash on the sofa. 

The last week had been hell. Everyone was dazed, still reeling from the loss of the addictive haze of happiness and the adrenaline spike of fury it had shattered into. All week the bullpen had been awkward, everyone trying to reconcile the guilt that had settled in the absence of the joy and the anger with the acceptance that they’d had no control over it. 

Still. Induced emotions or not, they had been real, and earnest, and consuming.

Even Captain Singh was exhausted. He might be addressing his precinct with a practiced composure and unwavering determination, but she knew he’d been working around the clock to help take the strain off of his team’s shoulders as they recovered from the whiplash of the previous week. 

_I just hope he gives himself a break,_ Allison thought, stepping into the elevator. _He’s doing so much, he deserves one._ She yawned, palm grinding into her right eye. She punched the elevator button with her thumb, closing her eyes and letting out the tension in her shoulders as she breathed out through her nose. _At least he’s got Wolfe’s arrest to keep him motivated. _

The elevator dinged. Allison hoisted her bag higher up onto her shoulder and strode out as the doors opened. 

She was halfway down the corridor before she realised that she was on the wrong floor. 

“I just want my bed,” she groaned to herself with a shake of her head, stomping back towards the lift. 

As she stormed past one of the computer labs, something caught her eye. In the dark room, a hazy white glow from one of the computers was lighting up the back wall, a shadow printed in its soft square of light.

“Hello?” 

Kristen raised her head. 

“Kristen? What are you doing here?” Allison asked, stepping into the dark computer lab. “I thought Singh gave you the week off.” 

“He did,” Kristen quietly said to her keyboard. Allison frowned and moved around the desk to stand beside her colleague.

“They why’re you--” She went quiet when she saw what Kristen had been looking at. 

Kristen gave her a forlorn smile, gesturing to the screen with the end of her pen. “There isn’t much to work with. Just snippets from around the city from the weekend. We lost pretty much everything we might’ve got from Iron Heights when it was destroyed: Wolfe apparently didn’t want anyone off the complex having access to their security feeds or records, so no backup. Funny that.” She tapped the end of her biro against her palm. “I mean,” she shrugged, folding her arms and leaning her elbows on the desk, “in burying any evidence of his abuse, he’s also eliminated any shred of footage that might’ve _maybe_ made a jury feel a _scrap_ of sympathy for him, if he got very lucky, so, you know. Silver linings, I guess.” 

Kristen went quiet again. Beside her was an open police file and a notebook with a few words scribbled down on its page - from the angle she stood at, Allison could read _‘Napoli’_ and a couple of bullet points below it, _‘Tailor’s shop’_ \- while in front of her on the screen blisteringly bright in the dark research lab, laughed the face of the Trickster on a paused surveillance reel. 

Allison dropped her bag and nudged it under the desk with her boot. She reached over to the desk next to Kristen’s and wheeled round the chair that had been tucked under it. 

“Hey,” Allison said softly. Kristen didn’t respond in either word or gesture, her shoulders still high and tight as she looked at her keyboard. “Kristen, you don’t need to do this.”

“Yes, I do.” 

“Kristen--”

“I want to help. I want Ja-- the Trickster caught as much of the rest of the squad does.” 

“Trust me, no one thinks otherwise,” Allison stressed seriously, and Kristen’s shoulders crunched tighter as she ducked her head. “Kristen, you can talk to us. You can talk to me.”

Kristen took a slow breath in through her nose. She wiggled the biro between her fingers idly. Allison said nothing, just waited to see if maybe she’d talk.

It took a glance back up at the smiling faces on her computer screen.

“I just feel stupid.” 

“You shouldn’t feel stupid.”

Kristen shrugged. “Still do, though.” She went quiet again, mouth twisting as she looked at the still of James Jesse surrounded by costumed criminals on the dock. “I’m just-- I can’t get my head around it.” She glanced away from the screen and gestured at nothing. “Okay, so-- I found some of his stuff at my place the other day,” Kristen explained, not quite looking at Allison. “Nothing related to any of this,” she added with a gesture to the screen, “and, um, nothing like-- he never stayed the night, and we never--” She raised her eyes and gave Allison a pointed look. 

Allison held up her hands in a little pacifying gesture. “Wasn’t going to assume,” she reassured her. 

Kristen nodded and cleared her throat. “It’s just… daft bits. The kind of stuff you’d forget at the mall or the office: a scarf, a jumper, a-- teddy bear he won for--” She pinched the bridge of her nose.

“It’s okay,” Allison offered gently. 

“No, no, I’m fine, it’s just--” Kristen moved her away from her face and smiled wryly at Allison. “You know how hindsight’s twenty-twenty? I’m having one of those moments.” 

“...Ah. He took you on a date to a carnival?” Allison ventured with a wince. 

“He took me on a date to a carnival,” Kristen sighed with a grimace. She crossed her arms over her chest and leant back in her chair. “Anyway… I wanted to chuck his stuff but then it felt like I was overreacting if I did, and--

“Definitely not overreacting,” Allison cut in. 

“--Yeah, I know,” Kristen admitted. “It’s just-- it’s like I _know_ he’s a criminal, but my brain’s still convinced that I can’t get rid of his stuff because that’s _James’_ stuff, you know? It’s like James and the Trickster are two different people in my head. Like this is some kind of weird messed up misunderstanding because surely _James_ would never do all this.” 

Allison nodded. “That makes sense.”

“Does it?”

“Of course it does! This all came out of the blue, I don’t blame you for being shocked or confused. I’d be surprised if you weren’t,” Allison stressed.

“Yeah, but-- we’d only been dating for a couple of months. It wasn’t like I was in love with him or anything.” 

“Kristen--” Allison sighed, looking imploringly at her friend. Kristen looked so worn out; she must’ve had all this stewing in her head for the last week. “Kristen, I’ve interviewed witnesses to crimes that lasted less than ten minutes from the get-go to the get-gone; it doesn’t matter how long something was or wasn’t--” 

“But that’s serious stuff like robberies and muggings and--”

“Kristen.” 

“...Sorry.”

Allison sighed. “It’s okay, it’s just ...this is serious too, okay? Just because he wasn’t lying to you for _years_ doesn’t mean he wasn’t lying to you for _months_. _Months_, Kristen. That’s a long time to know someone, to be _dating_ someone, only to find out they weren’t who they said they were. Trust me, you’re allowed to feel crummy and upset and confused. _You are not being stupid._”

Kristen’s eyes were shining in the light of the computer screen, and Allison wanted more than anything to close the damn window with the Trickster’s stupid face on it. 

“I...don’t understand how--” Kristen started, pausing to glance up at the ceiling and blink rapidly. “I don’t understand how he - how anyone - could lie like that? Could lie for so long and just-- Was it all fake?” 

Allison touched the open file that was half tucked under the computer’s keyboard. “I’ve heard he was a good con artist. One of the best - or worst, I guess, depending on your perspective.” She slid the file towards her and wrinkled her nose at the cheerful mugshot that was many years out of date. She shut the file with a flick and pinned it under her elbow. “It’s--” She waved her hands, as if hoping the right words would appear out of the air. “I think-- Actually--” Allison chewed her lip. 

“I know he was only dating me because I worked for the CCPD,” Kristen said, voice tired and resigned. “That doesn’t need saying.” She shifted in her chair. “That…kind of makes it better? I think? Makes it feel like it wasn’t personal.”

Allison made a noise; she wanted to say something reassuring, but what? Telling Kristen something like, _no, the Trickster must’ve liked her for her,_ would just be patronising. Like dumping a glass of milk on a house fire. 

“I think you’re right,” Allison said eventually. “I don’t think it was personal. I think he was selfish, and therefore you need to stop punishing yourself for what that jackass in a cape did.”

“I’m not punishing myself,” Kristen said defensively. 

“Then why’re you hiding in the computer lab when you could be in your lab?” 

“I’m not hidi-- Barry’s back in the department,” Kristen admitted when Allison raised her eyebrows.

“So? No one is judging you, Kristen, especially not Allen.” 

“Yeah, but I handed him over to James.” 

“So did I! I was one of the zombies that helped round him up. As did half the squad. If he’s gonna start holding grudges now, you aren’t going to be at the top of his list, trust me.” 

Kristen nodded her head vaguely; she knew she was right. She flipped her notebook shut. “I wasn’t ready to face everyone yet.” 

“Then go home,” Allison encouraged gently. “It’s the end of the day, night shift’s in now, and you are not staying here all night. You know that week off Singh gave you wasn’t to get you out of here, right? It was for you to take some time for yourself, to regroup. Not because anyone wanted you out.”

“I know,” Kristen said in a very small voice. 

“Did you want to talk to Singh? He’s been next-level patient with everyone this week despite everything. Sanchez was telling me that she was on the verge of a breakdown at her desk this morning and Singh brought her to his office, got her tea, and let her cry it out. He’ll understand, I promise.”

Kristen smiled at the thought. “I might.” She sniffed and looked down at her lap, uncapping and recapping her biro. “I wish I could go back and tell myself the truth about everything. Stop any of this from ever happening. Maybe--” 

“C’mere.” 

Allison gathered her Kristen into her arms as her friend’s voice cracked in two.

“I feel so strange,” came Kristen’s wobbly voice somewhere below Allison’s chin. “Everything feels wrong.” Allison nodded, and gave Kristen’s shoulders a squeeze. 

“I bet,” Allison murmured, thumb rubbing against Kristen’s cardigan. “But it will pass.” 

“Can it pass faster?” 

Allison huffed out a laugh. “We could try and get the Flash on it.” There was a wet noise from Kristen. 

Allison rested her cheek against Kristen’s hair, thumb still gently stroking her shoulder. “You could always talk to Hartley, if you wanted to talk to someone from outside of work about this?” 

“Hartley--?” 

“Singh’s boyfriend - he runs the support group at the community centre. You know, ginger, glasses-- fixed the sound system the night shift busted at the Christmas party in, like, two minutes?” 

“Oh, right, right, yeah.” Kristen nodded. “Of course I know Hartley.” She sniffed and sat up, smiling sheepishly at Allison, fidgeting with her sleeve. “He was out of the city for all of this, wasn’t he? Don’t suppose you know if David’s mentioned anything about him since--?”

“Hartley knows what happened - not with you, just generally,” Allison clarified quickly. “David told me that once he found out about the attack on Central he got the first flight back from Europe he could get his hands on. I, uh--” she quirked an eyebrow at Kristen and leant forwards a little “--got the impression that he’s very close to digging out his old Rogue gear and going after the Trickster himself.”

That at least made Kristen laugh a little. “Maybe that’s what we need. To find a Rogue, gotta think like one.” 

“Maybe.” 

Allison watched Kristen carefully dab her eyes with the corner of her sleeve. “Why don’t you come back to mine?” she suggested. “We can swing by yours and grab an overnight bag, and his leftover junk if you want it out. I’ll make dinner, we’ll watch a bad movie - I’ve got like three pints of ice cream in my freezer at the moment if you’re up an entire roster of bad breakup rituals.” 

“Why’ve you got so much ice cream?” 

“Oh! Uh, new boyfriend, he really likes the stuff.”

“Are you sure _you’re_ not secretly dating a supervillain?” Kristen asked with a smile, eyes still shining. “That feels like a Rogue-type obsession.” 

_I mean, his whole gimmick is based on a Rogue…_

“I think I’m good.” Allison gave Kristen’s foot a nudge. “So. What d’you think?” 

Kristen nodded. “That’d be really nice. Thank you.” 

“Hey,” Allison said, reaching over and giving her a hug. “Any time, okay? I mean it.” 

“Thank you,” Kristen mumbled against her shoulder. 

Allison grabbed the strap of her bag from under the desk, hauling it up onto her shoulder, and she’d be lying if she didn’t enjoy the sight of Kristen logging off her computer and the Trickster’s smug face disappearing with it. “Tell you what,” she said with a mischievous smile. “I think we’ve still got one of Heatwave’s old guns in the evidence archive somewhere. Wanna do an ex-boyfriend bonfire right?”

Kristen gave a startled laugh as she stood up, her purse in hand. “Oh gosh,” she giggled. “Oh no, now I just feel bad for the teddy bear.”

“That a yes?” Allison grinned, nudging her shoulder against Kristen’s.

“It’s not a no,” Kristen smiled. 

“Well then, that’s Monday sorted,” Allison said, leading Kristen towards the door of the computer lab. “We can drop the file and your notes back downstairs on our way out.”

“Thank you, Allison. I really mean it.” 

“Any time, Kristen. Any time.”

**Author's Note:**

> Welp, this was deeply off-brand for me. A fic in which James/the Rogues aren't framed positively? _Who am I?_


End file.
